Seven
by alohamora080
Summary: Seven kisses, throughout the lives of George and Angelina Weasley.


01 August 1999 — The "Scar" Kiss

George felt the corners of his lips twitch upward as Bill twirled Fleur around and around the Burrow's sitting room, both basking in the happiness of their second anniversary. Then, his own parents took the floor, swaying serenely to the music. They were followed closely by Harry and Ginny, both of whom were laughing so earnestly that they kept stumbling over each other's feet. George chuckled.

"Here you go." George blinked. A Butterbeer bottle was dangling in front of his face.

"Thanks." He smiled, patting the space next to him on the couch. And, the tall, dark, slender girl sank down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as she took a swig from her own bottle.

"I thought it might be nice for you to take a break from all that Firewhiskey," she explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

George let out a splutter of mock-indignation. "Hey, you know it's been ages since I've had a drop of that thing, Angelina." He shuddered slightly. "And, I think I'll keep it that way."

"Good." Angelina smiled, patting his hand. For a moment, a comfortable silence fell. Then— "Your mum thinks we're dating, you know that?"

George glanced at her determinedly nonchalant expression, the way her soft, brown eyes suddenly flickered up to meet his. "I know," George replied, biting his lip to refrain from smiling. "I—I figured it's no use telling her otherwise—she's probably already planning our wedding."

Angelina threw her head back and laughed, eyes sparkling. "Probably."

George felt his smile fade away, his mind cloud over. He gazed at her seriously, head cocked slightly to the side; and, she held his gaze with just as much intensity, their breaths and heartbeats mingling as one. Then, very slowly and very quietly, Angelina leaned up and brushed her lips to the thin white scars which outlined the large, gaping hole where his left ear had once been. He shivered, eyes sliding shut, as a hurricane of memories flashed across his mind. His brother's lifeless body…his mother's scream of anguish…his vision swimming, as the floor of the Great Hall seemed to fly up from beneath him…and, Angelina's warm hand reaching out to him, in the midst of it all.

Without a word, he leaned forward and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

* * *

23 February 2000 — The First Kiss

"And, don't forget the Skiving Snackboxes!" Angelina screeched, as she whizzed past him in the basement. "They're one of the most popular items! I think the customers would be happy to see it back on display!"

"Ange—"

"Oh, and I forgot to tell you—Lee found a whole crate of those Canary Creams in here, the other day—can you believe it? We'd been looking for those since Merlin-knows-when!"

"Ange—"

"Apparently, they were hidden under _that_ shelf—!"

"Angelina," George said exasperatedly, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. "Calm down, will you? We've got this completely under control. The reopening isn't until April. You know that, right?"

"I know," Angelina snapped, scowling at him. "But, that doesn't mean you can't get a head start, George Weasley."

George chuckled. "All right, all right. I understand." Angelina's expression softened.

Suddenly—and he didn't know what made him do it—George caught her wrist and tugged her forward, leaning down so that their lips met. George's mind went blank, his body went numb. All he knew was that he was kissing her, for the first time, and that it was the most euphoric moment of his life. He didn't know quite how long they stood there, together. It could have been hours, days, even months. But, the moment they broke apart, the worries began to assault George.

And, only one clear thought flashed across his mind.

What had he been thinking?

"I—I—" he stammered, taking a small step backwards. For the first time in his entire life, he found himself lost for words. Angelina simply stared at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Then, with a strangled cry of what George could only assume to be frustration, she rocketed forward and flung her arms around his neck.

"Took you long enough," she groused, smiling slightly nonetheless.

* * *

22 March 2003 — The Proposal Kiss

"George, I swear, if you don't have a good reason for dragging me up this wretched hill, I will hex you into the next century," Angelina grumbled, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she followed George up the steep incline that was Stoatshead Hill. "I have to be at the Department early tomorrow, or Bennett will have my head…"

"There is a good reason, I promise you," George said earnestly, biting his lip. Slipping a hand into his cloak pocket, he lightly fingered the Whizbangs he had hidden within, silently praying that his plan would execute itself without a hitch. It simply had to.

"Are we there yet, George?" Angelina's impatient voice floated up from several paces behind him, a moment later. George's brows furrowed. She was in a very foul mood, indeed.

"Nearly," George said with forced brightness. And, several undeniably long minutes later, they reached the top. He turned around and faced Angelina, a smile on his face. "All right. We're here."

"Brilliant," Angelina snapped. She turned around slowly, eyebrows arched. "Now, what's the surprise?"

"Close your eyes," George commanded, turning away slightly to covertly extract the bag of fireworks from his cloak.

"George—!"

"Please?" George interrupted desperately, frowning as he counted them. "Just close them...it'll make the surprise better, I promise."

With an exaggerated sigh, Angelina obliged. "All right. They're closed."

"Good." George's expression cleared. With a deep, reassuring breath, he began arranging them in a neat pattern upon the grassy terrain. Then, heart thumping wildly against his chest, he pulled out his wand and touched it to the neat array of fireworks he had laid out. "_Incendio_," he murmured, grinning slightly as the familiar buzzing noise greeted his ears.

Angelina's eyes snapped open. "What—?"

BOOM.

Angelina let out a small scream, staggering. "George! George, what's going on? George? George, _where are you_?" George simply watched with bated breath as her eyes searched frantically for his face through the darkness, finally landing on where he was kneeling in front of her, holding up a small violet box. The elegant diamond seemed to sparkle, even in the night. Angelina's eyes widened. Her eyes flickered up to the glimmering sky and she gasped, hands flying for her mouth.

For a moment, Angelina stared at him, and, in the sparse light, George could just make out the tears welling up in her eyes. But, when she spoke, her voice was steady.

"Of _course_ I will, George."

And, as George slipped the ring onto her finger, Angelina too fell to her knees, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. And, so they kissed, as the question in the sky glowed fiercely before fading away.

* * *

13 May 2004 — The Wedding Kiss

"You look like your about to faint," Ron joked, contemplating George's deathly pale features.

"Oh, you just wait until you get married, Ron," laughed Harry, thumping his best friend's shoulder. "It's a lot scarier than it might seem."

"It seems terrifying," Percy noted, raising an eyebrow at George's pallid complexion.

"Then, you get my gist," Harry shrugged, grinning good-naturedly. All of the groomsmen chuckled, and even George couldn't quite resist a smile. Suddenly, Lee Jordan came tearing up the aisle, pausing for a moment to look out at the crowded marquee before he took his position amongst George's other groomsmen: Percy, Ron, and Harry.

"All right, then," Lee nodded, winking at George. "Looks like we're ready to go."

As if on cue, music began to swell from the golden balloons he and Lee had set up earlier that day. And, George felt his mouth grow dry as Angelina Johnson appeared at the end of the aisle, her dark eyes trained precisely on his pale ones. She beamed up at him as she strolled down the walkway behind Alicia, and, in that instant, George felt a sudden surge of confidence well up inside him. With a warm smile, George reached out to take her hands, and, together, they nodded for the stout, little wizard to begin the ceremony.

George found himself unable to pay attention to a single word the wheezy little priest was saying. He simply mumbled in agreement every time he was asked a question and nodded whenever the wizard looked his way. He found himself furiously trying to memorize everything about her in that moment. The warmth of Angelina's fingers locked in his, the small splattering of freckles upon her dusky cheeks, and the blazing look in her eyes when she declared, "I do."

And, so, when the plump little wizard finally squeaked, "You may now kiss your bride," George didn't need telling twice. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

* * *

01 April 2005 — The "Fred" Kiss

George massaged his sore hand—Angelina had nearly cut off its circulation, moments earlier—as he grinned down at Angelina, who was gazing at their newborn son with a stunned, mesmerized expression on her face. She glanced up at him, opening her mouth to say something, but—

"Well, what's his name?" George glanced up, vaguely surprised to find that his entire family was crowded around the hospital cot, smiling expectantly down at them.

And, George frowned, as it suddenly hit him that, not _once_ had the topic of names for their baby been brought up, during the course of the preceding nine months. Angelina's pregnancy had flown by in a flurry of visits to St. Mungo's, terrible morning sickness, and several strange spurts joyousness. There had been almost no time at all for conversation.

Suddenly, Angelina's hand tightened around his, and, George faced her, eyes wide.

But, the moment his gaze fell upon the fierce presence in her eyes, he knew. He knew that, no matter what, he would give his little boy one name, and one name, only. He stared at his small, sleeping, oblivious son in awe for a moment, realizing that the little one—_his _little one—was so much more than he would ever truly fathom. And, George leaned down, pressing a kiss to his wife's lips before turning back to his family.

"Fred."

* * *

25 March 2008 — The "Roxanne" Kiss

"George?"

George started out of his half-doze, jumping up and rushing to his wife's bedside. It had been nearly a day since Angelina had given birth to their second child, a daughter. "You're awake." George pushed a few strands of her dark hair out of her still-exhausted eyes. "Are you all right? Do you want me to get you anything—?"

"I'm fine, George," Angelina said softly. "I just…can I see her?"

George nodded, quickly making his way towards the bassinet in the corner of his room. And, there she lay. His daughter. New and fresh and innocent and perfect. Gently, he leaned down and picked her up, walking back to his wife and holding their daughter between them.

"There she is," Angelina whispered, touching a finger to her daughter's small cheek. "There's my girl."

George grinned. Then, he took a deep breath. "Ange…well, I…I was thinking, and…I reckon we _should_ name her Roxanne."

Angelina looked up, startled. "You—what?"

"I think…I think Roxanne is a good name for her." George nodded at her stunned expression. "We should name her after your mother."

"Even though—" Angelina still looked as though she couldn't believe it. "Even though she left me, when I—"

"When you were born, yes," George sighed. "You were right. I…I think she genuinely regrets it. It was very brave of her to apologize to you, after all these years, and…well, I would want my daughter to be as brave as her, someday."

Angelina smiled. "I would, too." Then, she leaned forward and captured his lips with her own.

* * *

21 October 2075 — The Last Kiss

George swallowed heavily as he determinedly lifted a smile to his otherwise pale, impassive face. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he gently tugged open the door to the bedroom he shared with Angelina in their cozy, little flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where they still lived, after all these years.

He strolled across the room, towards the bed in the center, where Angelina was lying, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her face was thin and worn, eyes heavy, jaw clenched. But, the moment her eyes fell on him, her face broke into a warm smile.

"George," she whispered. She had permanently lost her voice, two years earlier, when she had become an unfortunate victim of dragon pox. The year-long illness had taken a great deal out of her. "Sit down."

Quietly, George sat down beside her, taking her hand and rubbing it with his thumb. "How are you feeling?"

Angelina managed a wry laugh. "George, you really oughtn't ask me that anymore."

"Shh," George murmured, gently squeezing her hand. "You—you'll be fine."

Angelina smiled sadly. With immense effort, she pushed herself upright, leaning back against the headboard. "I—George, honestly, I don't think I have much longer. I really don't know how long, but…" she trailed off, looking pained. "But, it won't be long."

George closed his eyes. His worst fears were, at long last, confirmed. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to open his eyes and find himself at age thirty, Angelina giggling at a joke he'd told, Fred's childish laughter echoing through the house, little Roxanne gurgling happily in his arms.

But, when his eyes finally reopened, he found none of these things. He mentally shook himself. "Fred and Rox just left," George informed his wife, his voice falsely cheery. "Nellie and her girls cooked us some dinner. It's in the kitchen."

Angelina beamed. "That was very sweet of them." George nodded, pressing his lips together. And, as though she noticed this, Angelina let out a small sigh. "Oh, George, come here." She held up her frail arms and George obliged, leaning forward and looping his own arms around her spindly waist. Very gently, he leaned forward and kissed her, smiling slightly as he breathed in her familiar scent.

"I love you," Angelina whispered, when they broke apart. "And, I—I'm sorry I won't be with you—until the end."

George shook his head, leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers. "You'll always be with me, Angelina." She smiled at him, her eyes sliding shut. "Always."

* * *

Hello, my lovelies!

I feel like it's been quite a while since I last posted a one-shot. This one is for SonyaWho's "Seven Kisses" Challenge. I must admit, some of it was very sad to come up with, but it was…cathartic, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.

Hope you enjoyed it as well!

Yours sincerely,  
Alohamora


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